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Edgar Guest - The Willing HorseEdgar Guest - The Willing Horse
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I`d rather be the willing horse that people ride to death Than be the proud and haughty steed that children dare not touch; I`d rather haul a merry pack and finish out of breath Than never leave the barn to toil because I`m worth too much. So boast your noble pedigrees And talk of manners, if you please-- The weary horse enjoys his ease   When all his work is done; The willing horse, day in and out, Can hear the merry children shout And every time they are about   He shares in all their fun. I want no guards beside my door to pick and choose my friends for me; I would not be shut off from men as is the fancy steed; I do not care when I go by that no one turns his eyes to see The dashing manner of my gait which marks my noble breed; I am content to trudge the road And willingly to draw my load-- Sometimes to know the spur and goad   When I begin to lag; I`d rather feel the collar jerk And tug at me, the while I work, Than all the tasks of life to shirk   As does the stylish nag. So let me be the willing horse that now and then is overtasked, Let me be one the children love and freely dare to ride-- I`d rather be the gentle steed of which too much is sometimes asked Than be the one that never knows the youngsters at his side. So drive me wheresoe`er you will, On level road or up the hill, Pile on my back the burdens still   And run me out of breath-- In love and friendship, day by day, And kindly words I`ll take my pay; A willing horse; that is the way   I choose to meet my death.
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